A Singularly Unpopular View of Adverbs

I stand before you today (okay, actually I’m probably sitting as you read this, but that sounds far less dramatic) in defense of what I think is an unfairly maligned piece of our language: the adverb.

Other than the announcement that Snooki from The Jersey Shore had published a novel, I know of no other literary topic that evokes as much scorn as adverbs. Avoid them, we are taught. They are bad. They weaken your writing. They cause cavities, give you bad hair days, and are responsible for most of society’s woes. Every time you use an adverb, God kills a fluffy little bunny.

Not so, I say. And I think it’s high time that we give these poor words a break. I know this isn’t a popular stance, but I ask you to hear me out. Not because I’m particularly fond of adverbs – I’m not. But I’m no less fond of them than any other part of speech. Because that’s just it: I can’t accept that any particular part of speech is better (or stronger, or whatever) than another. Communication is complex; I think we need ALL these parts of speech to give us the widest possible expressive range.

I mean, I can’t see a painter always omitting a specific group of colors from her palette, nor a musician avoiding a specific set of musical notes or chords. Those colors and notes may not fit nicely everywhere, but there are bound to be times when they’re needed. I submit that it’s the same with adverbs (or prepositions, or any other part of speech we could single out). They’re all just words. Why avoid entire classes of those words?

Yet that is what we are taught to do, often in the form of writing “rules” handed down to us by very accomplished authors, journalists, and professors. And since those people are speaking from a position of authority, it’s hard to oppose them – after all, they must know what they’re doing, right? As a result, many of us simply accept these rules without question, and evangelize these rules to other writers.

And then an insidious thing begins to happen.

Having had the no-adverb rule hammered into our heads repeatedly, we begin to notice adverbs in other writers’ work, and draw the conclusion that these other writers must be writing badly. And we conclude this simply because we’ve been taught to look out for a certain type of word, regardless of the context in which it is used.

Rules, schmules

I don’t hate adverbs. But I do hate writing rules. I’m not talking about grammar or spelling – those are rules I can respect. I’m talking about the oversimplified “rules” every writer encounters when they first begin to study the craft of writing. You’ll find them in how-to books, blogs, college courses – pretty much anywhere writing is being discussed. I’m talking about rules like these:

Avoid all adverbs.Don’t use the passive voice.

That second one is a killer. Many writers (I might go so far as to say most writers) don’t really understand what the passive voice is. They mistakenly assume a verb that uses a form of “to be” is automatically passive, which is NOT* necessarily the case. Armed with that lack of understanding, these writers set off on a witch-hunt, eagerly cutting out any verbs that have a “to be” construct, all the while assuming they are automatically improving their writing when the thing they’re cutting may not even BE passive.

But the no-adverb rule is equally dangerous, in that a surprising number of writers don’t have a deep grasp of what an adverb is, nor what functions it can serve. They just look for words with an “LY” on the end, and gleefully delete them, assured that by doing so, they are improving the quality of their prose. But it’s not that simple. So let’s try a little experiment…

REALITY CHECK: How many adverbs are in this sentence?

Mary was usually quite punctual, but she had been too drunk to remember to set her alarm, and arrived late, cursing vehemently as she climbed the church stairs.

Please take a shot at this, then scroll to the end of this post for the answer.

NOTE: I’ll be the first to admit the sentence above is clunky as hell. My goal is to illustrate the danger of trying to adhere to a rule without fully understanding it, and – even worse – the danger of judging the work of other writers based on that same flawed understanding.

The problem with rules

Here’s the problem with this kind of rule: it doesn’t encourage comprehension or judgment. Only rote obedience.

That oversimplified rules-based approach might be effective in a general English 101 class for college freshmen, an audience whose sole goal is to never have to take another English course. But I submit this approach has no place in the training of a serious writer.

If I saw more people making the leap to truly understand these concepts, I’d be less opposed to the notion of using high-level guidelines like these “rules.” But I’ve been active on writers’ forums for over a decade, and historically and consistently I have seen serious writers – some of them paid professionals – who preach and abide by these “rules” when it’s clear they themselves do not fully understand them.

So I’m rallying against that trend, and goading people to boost their understanding, not their obedience. And that understanding will be gained not by avoiding adverbs, but by learning what they are. Not by avoiding “to be” constructs, but by learning what makes a sentence passive. And that’s something those rules don’t teach you.

The late, great adverb

Back to adverbs – so just what the heck do they do? An adverb is a word that modifies a verb, an adjective, or another adverb. Adverbs generally answer one of four questions: how, when, where, or to what extent?

If you’ve scrolled to the bottom, you’ll know that one of the adverbs in that awful sentence I tested you on is the word late, which answers the “when” question. Folks, what the heck is wrong with that word? Imagine it placed in a less-clunky sentence like this:

Mary arrived late, which is why she wasn’t killed by the meteor.

If we obey the no-adverb rule, and simply remove the word, the meaning of the sentence is significantly changed:

Mary arrived, which is why she wasn’t killed by the meteor.

We could also try to rewrite it in a way that maintains the meaning of the original sentence, but eliminates the adverb. But what is a more succinct and precise way of saying late?

Mary wasn’t killed by the meteor because she arrived at a time that was past her expected arrival time.

Gadzooks, that’s awful. You may be able to do better, but will it really be an improvement over the word late? I doubt it.

This is why I cannot accept a blanket dismissal of all adverbs as inferior words. Instead, I maintain that sometimes an adverb is exactly the RIGHT word. Even if that means another fluffy little bunny has to bite the dust.**

So, how many adverbs did you find in my little Reality Check exercise?

Please post your response below (be honest!), along with your thoughts about this controversial part of speech. Are adverbs okay? Or are they inherently bad?

And if the latter option reflects your thinking, let me ask you this: did you really feel the word “inherently” weakened that question? Or did it actually make it more specific? Something to think about…

Thanks for reading!

* Some tenses of verbs have a “to be” construct within them, without making them passive; in particular, the past progressive tense is very frequently mistaken for passive voice.

** DISCLAIMER: No fluffy little bunnies were harmed during the creation of this post. But I’m told that Clive Cussler did experience “a minor wedgie,” which is fine with me.

Author of the novels ME AGAIN, published by Five Star/Gale; and TONY PARTLY CLOUDY (published under his pen name Nick Rollins), Keith Cronin is a corporate speechwriter and professional rock drummer who has performed and recorded with artists including Bruce Springsteen, Clarence Clemons, and Pat Travers. Keith's fiction has appeared in Carve Magazine, Amarillo Bay, The Scruffy Dog Review, Zinos, and a University of Phoenix management course. A native of South Florida, Keith spends his free time serenading local ducks and squirrels with his ukulele.

Comments

Oh thanks, thanks, thanks for this post. I’ve been wanting to blog about this kind of things in writing from a while, and couldn’t have said it better.

The problem with rules is that they’re warm, safe and reassuring. Rules are a comfortable excuse to stop thinking, rules allow you to judge others. It’s a gut reaction I’ve had too from time to time. The problem is that mindlessly following rules hardly does any good – and here’s a case where the adverb makes the difference. No part of the sentence is bad per se. It’s just the writer’s job to ensure each part is earning its pay. Adverbs, for instance, must not be used for padding or inappropriately (i.e. the dreaded “literally” or “totally”, often used with their colloquial meaning, come to mind), and strong, less words are generally better than more, weaker words (i.e. say “exhausted” instead of “very tired” or “really tired”). But the most important thing is understanding that there’s a reason for this.

I bet you were also part of the generation that diagrammed sentences in english class. :-)
I agree, monolithic rules are just asking for trouble, but that’s what makes it fun to be a troublemaker.
And I only counted four adverbs (the one after the verb but without the ly nabbed me), but too many years of just trying to explain subject-verb agreement to students has made me rusty at the finer points. Thanks for a nice reality check post.

Lol! I was part of that diagramming generation. In fact, my best friend and I used to compete to see who could both write and then correctly diagram the longest, most complex sentence. Grammar geeks of the world unite!

The problem is not with the rules, but that people present them as rules. There are no rules in non-formal writing. Not even spelling and grammar need be cast-iron laws.

But there are plenty of ‘rule of thumb’ guidelines which are good general advice.

The ‘no adverbs’, and ‘less words’ rules are, I think, even more misused than most. What they ought to say is ‘don’t put anything in just for the sake of it’. Any word in a finished version of your work ought to serve a purpose, whether it alters the meaning, the feeling, or simply the sound of the sentence. Adverbs are un-useful perhaps more often than other words, but they clearly do serve a purpose in a language or else they would not exist.

I got three adverbs: missed out ‘quite’ and ‘too’, which I thought modified the adjectives (and so the nouns) rather than the verbs.

I think adverb use falls under the break-it-once-you-understand-it rule umbrella. Sometimes I’ll even add an adverb after “said,” which seems to be a particularly rancid infraction to adverb haters. But, really, what’s wrong with the occasional “he said quietly”? And adverbs didn’t seem to hurt J.K. Rowling’s career. Just saying.

Couldn’t agree more! DasteRoad and CarrieVS added some great thoughts that I agree with as well.

“Having had the no-adverb rule hammered into our heads repeatedly, we begin to notice adverbs in other writers’ work, and draw the conclusion that these other writers must be writing badly. And we conclude this simply because we’ve been taught to look out for a certain type of word, regardless of the context in which it is used.”

This is in fact one of the most dangerous things about “rules.” And even smart, kind writers may find themselves doing their peers that disservice.

When I first started with my critique group 3 or 4 years ago, I found myself making comments based on the aforementioned “rules.” Blindly striking out adverbs, ruthlessly revising out “was,” etc. In some cases it helped, but in many I was just doing what I thought I was supposed to, as opposed to really looking at the story and seeing what it needed.

Since that realization I’ve gotten a LOT better, but that said, I do still watch out for adverbs, because they ARE commonly overused. We’ve become a society of hyperbole, and we have a hard time saying anything without qualifying it.

I think the first time I encountered this particular piece of writerly dogma was in Stephen King’s marvelous On Writing. But even here, in the self-editing lessons he gives at the end using his own work, he breaks his own commandment. I remember being relieved as I read that.

I do note them in other writer’s work, but often with relief–especially if it’s someone I respect. The ones that often clunk for me are there to modify dialog, and yet I still find myself using them. It’s a leap of faith to trust you’ve written strong enough dialog, and then trust your reader.

Thank you, so much, for this post. My last creative writing teacher was of the you-must-kill-adverbs sort. He would take points off for them! Even though the class lasted just a semester, he definitely affected the way I read others’ work, and I sure wish that wasn’t the case. Reading this was therapeutic for me, so thank you, again.

I have taught creative writing for ten years, and I NEVER use the term “rules,” nor do any of my colleagues. Some people (like the author of this article, it would appear) like to think of writing teachers as stodgy authoritarians who insist that there is One Correct Way To Write, but that style of teaching went out with rotary dial phones. Honestly I think it is students (some of ’em, anyway, usually the ones who don’t care about writing) who want to know what the Rules are so they can get an A. I have never been “anti-adverb” or “anti-passive voice.” The problem is I read so much beginning fiction where students think the more adverbs they use, the more descriptive a story is, to the point where it becomes a crutch. Then you get 37 stories where “she whispered extremely quietly” and “he shouted excessively loudly and animatedly.” Passive voice is similar: people don’t realize they use it as much as they do until it is pointed out to them, which is not the same thing as being told they should never use it at all. I like to say that in writing we use tools, not rules, and the idea is to try as many of these as possible.

Another terrific post, Keith. Got 4 but missed “late” (DRAT!)–good exercise for reminding us that not all adverbs end in -ly.

You’re right that we can’t do without adverbs entirely, nor should we try, but at the same time, it’s not wrong to point out when a writer (especially a new one) is using them excessively, maybe even exclusively, when they’re writing lazily, or avoiding good writing practices, whether ignorantly or cavalierly. Then it’s our job as fellow writers to steer them onto a better-balanced path that lets them choose just the right word, whether it’s, to borrow from Mark Twain, lightning or lightning bug–or an adverb.

Great post, Keith! When I saw Therese’s tweet about this, I had to pop in, because I happen to like adverbs and think they’ve gotten a bad rap. Poor little guys. (Maybe that’s why I spotted all 5 in your “test.”) Not the gratuitous use of them, but like you said, they can serve a very important purpose and removing them can make for some clunky writing.

I say adverbs are like salt. Sprinkled strategically, they work and it’s delicious. Too much can ruin the writing but too little gives it no flavor.

Jeanne, I’m a sentence diagrammer and proud of it. ;-)

I saw a post recently that maligned gerunds. I happen to like them too.

Thank you! What a relief to hear. I recently read a short story that was so packed with similes and metaphors I was begging for a couple simple adverbs or adjectives. Apparently, the author had been scared off them.

Ahh…identifying adverbs. Having forced several generations of students to diagram sentences, I can speak first hand about how often those often teeny words get misunderstood and classified as something else. I suspect that partially explains why some people insist that all adverbs are evil. They don’t recognize all the benign ones hiding in their prose. I can generally improve a draft by removing any number of modifiers of various sorts–the overall concept behind this “rule” is sound–but let’s not take our ignorance out on poor innocent words like “not” and “late,” and what would we do without words like “inherently” now and again?

My view of rules is that they’re made to be broken. There is almost no aspect of life where some rule holds 100%. I suppose people feel getting it wrong the 15% of the time the rule is invalid is better than getting it wrong the rest of the time. Adverbs are so fine-grained it’s easy to see why it’s better not to use them, especially when the emphasis is on activity and dynamism, which adverbs tend to thwart. But sometimes the hero does speak quietly, not whisper.
On the other hand, there may be better ways to do what the adverb does. I have a particular bias against descriptive prose, which includes dialog tags and adverbs. I suspect it would be fairly easy to emphasize the lateness of Mary’s arrival, and its importance, without using an adverb. I’d probably do it in dialog, sort of like:

Mary got out of the cab, checked her watch. “Late again.” Looking up, she spotted the giant crater. “Not that that’s a bad thing…”

I have nothing against adverbs either– but I want my sentences to have strength, accuracy, vitality and no clumsiness or clutter. In re-writing, astonishingly enough, I find myself remembering some fashionista’s advice about accessories: add earring, scarves, necklaces, do-dads in your hair, even an alligator purse. Then look at yourself in a full length mirror– look good?
Now remove one accessory– your choice.
Most of the time, according to said fashionista, you’re making a stronger statement and look more “put-together” instead of gilding the lily, right?
Well, that’s how I feel about adverbs. I want them to add just that right nuance to my already strong choice of verb. But I see them in context of not only that sentence but the whole paragraph. I ask myself, “Are all these adverbs really adding something, or would the paragraph be stronger if I cut one out– the way you reconsider yourself in the mirror and decide you’ll have a more unified “look” if you ditch the magenta scarf or the tribal necklace.

While I do agree with you Keith, that adverbs are not bad all of the time, I think you contradict yourself in your argument here. You mention the metaphors of musicians and painters as an argument for why we should be using adverbs, but keep in mind that those writing rules don’t say never use them (or maybe they do and I’ve gotten past that point), generally they just say avoid them.

This is similar to how budding artists are encouraged to avoid certain colors because there are certain times when they are encouraged. But if every budding artist used contradictory colors all of the time it would be a train wreck. But when an accomplished artist has learned the rules and then uses those colors they can create a masterpiece. Same with musicians. As a former aspiring saxophonist, I know that dissonant chords are not generally taught at the beginning of your musical career because if used too often your music sounds, well, wrong. However without dissonance we would have no horror soundtracks, and some of the most eerie musical transitions would not be possible.

The reason that I feel we as young writers are taught the so called “rules” of writing, is because we do not have a strong enough command of the craft to use it properly. Give a young writer who doesn’t understand the rule a typewriter and you’re going to get something like Twilight. Teach them the rules and we start getting art. Teach them to break the rules and you get poetry.

All adverbs are not bad. If they were, they’d have gone the way of thou and tis. But too many adverbs does not art make. So in telling young writers not to use them, I feel we are asking them to learn when it’s all right to use them, so that when they do use them they are getting the maximum impact from them.

OMG, I found all the adverbs. So many books pan the use of adverbs and the passive voice. I am more aware of my personal use of them, but don’t hold it against other authors. If I get too focused on how someone has written a story that usually means I’m not caught up in the story.

My goal is to write a story that pulls the reader into its web. I admit to becoming infatuated with certain books that are not necessarily well-written. Those books grab me emotionally and resonate deeply (oops! adverbs). It’s hard for even crappy writing to get in the way of a superb story.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with adverbs (or adjectives, for that matter). The problem comes when they’re overused; but that’s true about everything. The “issue” with adverbs is that they’re often used to “tell” in lieu of “showing”–another crazy, trendy no-no that shall pass–but the truth of the matter is that people who use English think and speak in adverbs, which is why written dialogue is full of them. Long live the adverb!

I’ve always hated that adverb rule. The people who used to adverb at me were always the most incompetent of the incompetents. All those wanna-be writers marinating in the juices of their own failings.

Early on I created this rule for the Adverb/Adjective issue.

1) If you write books about your cat, don’t use them.
2) If you want to be the next Tom Clancy / Jame Patterson don’t use them.
3) If you read books with them: use them – if you want; and don’t – if you don’t.

I love your sense of humor! Besides taking out all adverbs and adjectives (how, I do not know), and to avoid passive writing, I have also been told not to use too many gerunds. Pretty soon, all that is left is nouns and verbs. What kind of sentence is that? Short ones, for sure. I agree that, as writers, we need to learn and use the right word at the right time. Thanks for the funny post.

I love adverbs, and used to abuse them quite a lot. And that’s the key: I ABUSED them. A lot. And then I started obeying the “no adverbs” rule, and while many of my sentences improved, some of them became clunky as I tried to think of a way to express the same idea, or the way a character does something, or so on, without an adverb. Chosen wisely, they can add nuance and precision to the ideas the writer is trying to convey.

(I’m imagining a rather humorous character now–perhaps a wannabe writer or a smart-aleck know-it-all–who tries to speak without using adverbs, and only produces the most roundabout of sentences as a result.)

I took a brush up course in basic English grammar last semester. The professor was a writer. He informed the class that he was going to teach us the rules so that we could be “informed rebels and rule breakers” with our creative writing.

Upon examining Danielle Steel’s “A Perfect Stranger,” I find ten adverbs a page (an estimate). On the back cover there is a blurb that contains no adverbs: “Over 590 million copies of her novels sold!” Who can argue with Danielle? (And, what about the rule for exclamation points?)

If you conclude that the masses are comfortable with (or unaware of) the breaking of rules, and Ms. Steele can trade sloppy writing for dollars, what about the rule against repetition in our writing?

GREAT post, Keith. Oh, sorry, I’m never supposed to capitalize when writing on the internet. I heard it was rude. Anyway, I agree with many of your commenters. It’s about time someone spoke up for adverbs and the verb “to be”. I’ve spent hours and hours reading through my manuscripts, deleting all the adverbs I could find and it did not help my writing – most of the time. How can we arbitrarily omit a part of our language based on some rule that “someone” made up? Never made sense to me.
Patti

I counted 5 adverbs. I’ve written before on my blog about a VERY positive and useful use of adverbs–when they modify adjectives, they can add nuance and flavor to a description. For example, “Her cheeks were fetchingly red from the cold.” tells you something about the person perceiving her, much more than “Her cheeks were red from the cold.”

Now and then I see a place where an adverb is a good thing with a verb, but far more often there is a stronger, livelier verb waiting that can do the job of the two words in a better way. And, in m editing, I often see adverbs that can be eliminated because they really don’t add anything.

Hah – I got all five! And while I was of the sentence-diagramming generation, somehow none of my teachers did it. I listen to my husband describe it and cringe.

One of the best exercises I use with students (came from one of my intro college classes in the 70s) is to take a walk and then describe it using as many adjectives and adverbs as possible. The write another version using no adjectives/adverbs. And then write it a third time finding a happy medium. It’s fun to watch the ah-ha! moments.

I NEVER heard of the “Don’t use adverbs” rule until a few weeks ago. Is it an American thing? I think it is the stupidest rule I have ever heard. Adverbs describe action, its shades and nuances. Only a foolish artist would reject all colour for his painting and only a tabloid headline writer would avoid adverbs. Don’t talk down to your reader, even if your reader is a child. Most people can cope with more than monosyllables and constant action. Those that cannot are unlikely to be in a bookshop anyway

Thank you so much for you article on adverbs.
It means alot to me.
You see, I used to be an adverb, but I was not accepted. My wife was a verb and she left me, claiming I was superfluous. I became a single parent with two lovely children, a verb and an adjective. My oldest was called “Fast” and the younger we named “Beautiful.” Even my children grew impatient with me as they grew older.
“What could I do?” I thought to my self pensively. Where can I go to be able to fully and completely express my deepest and most meaningful ideas? These feelings hauntingly pressed themselves against the doors to my inner self.
Finally, after my children grew up and left for school, I had to chance to re-explore my old self. Hastily rushing out the door I quickly ran to the lake near our house. I dived in, fully clothed and all. Oh the freedom. Oh the joy! …to be an adverb once again. This was my dream, my calling; to go out and help all the lonely unempowered verbs and adjectives. Wow, free at least.

Thanks so much for posting! As a serial passive voice user myself (my editor can attest to this fact) it is nice to know I am not alone in my fight against the literary establishment. Here’s the way to be able to do whatever you want as a writer. Sell a boatload of copies and no one will even care if you put quotations around dialogue (sorry Saragamo and McCarthy), much less worry about your adverb usage!

I’m afraid I only got two – the obvious ones. This, although I can also remember diagramming sentences and actually know the difference (thanks to German and Latin class) between the active and subjunctive moods. Great post!

This is awesome. I’m a new writer but prolific. I’ve written four novels and I’m half way through number 5 (with ideas for more). I have no formal writing training beyond English 101 and English 102 in college and I almost think that’s a good thing. Reason being: well, I am also an artist. As an artist, I hate it when people try to shove art rules in my face. Sure, familiar guidelines about composition, line of action and color schemes are nice and have their place, but, the truly great artists are the ones brave enough to break the mold: The ones not putting out standard fare. Interestingly, in many cases their work was viewed as utter crap until after their death. That in mind, I write what I think sounds good. I write what appeals to me. I am a word nerd and I like to play with sounds and visuals rather than linger over my grammar (which I am confident I’m doing alright in that department). I have been told my writing is not easy to read for the average person and I’m okay with that. I’m not writing for the average Joe. I’m writing for me. Other people who think like me will enjoy it. Rather than have a bunch of people who “like my work” I’ll have fewer fans but they will LOVE my work. Anyhow, I didn’t sit and think this response out, either (I do think out my writing) but these are the thoughts that jumped out at me after reading this. It was an informative, thought provoking article and I enjoyed the time I spent reading it.

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